


string from your tether unwinds

by pirateygoodness



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 06:08:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17017194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: Charlie flips the bottle cap off with a swift gesture and flicks it at Zari, who watches as it clatters to the floor a few feet away from her.  Charlie shrugs, takes her first drink and starts to walk away. It's stupid, and petty, and Zari should be breathing and letting it go but the sight of that bottle cap on the floor and Charlie's smug half-smile just makes her blood boil."Are you going to pick that up?" Zari hardly recognizes her own voice, barely even registers that she's speaking until she's already spoken. She's just soangryand Charlie bothers her so much that she can't help herself. Her hands are wrapped around her mug, her grip too tight and almost uncomfortable against the warmth of it.





	string from your tether unwinds

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Sweetness" by Jimmy Eat World.

Zari isn't mad at Charlie. She refuses to be. She's taking her anger and releasing it into the universe. She's practicing kindness. She's definitely not thinking about how she wants to punch Charlie in her stupid face or how angry she is because look _everyone gets it_ , Charlie doesn't want to be there and she's not Amaya, _obviously._

But if she could go five seconds without getting in Zari's face about it or talking about how boring she thinks Amaya was that would just be - 

It'd be great is all Zari's saying. 

It'd be super, super great and maybe Zari wouldn't be here, alone in the kitchen breathing through her nose and trying not to clench her teeth together. She's trying not to be as angry, these days, but something about Charlie just gets under her skin. 

She closes her eyes, takes a breath and focuses on making a cup of tea: putting the tea leaves into the bag a few pinches at a time, listening to the rumble of the kettle as it starts to boil. She watches the honey as it drips off the edge of her spoon into the cup, the golden shimmer of it spreading across the bottom of her mug while she waits for the kettle to finish. When the kettle finishes, she pours the water and takes another deep breath, smells peppermint and steam and sweetness. 

Zari closes her eyes again and her mind jumps right to the memory of Charlie just hours ago, locking eyes with her, calling Amaya a _twee old nag_. Just like that, her blood is boiling all over again. 

She just - it's _fine_ , Charlie wasn't totally useless in Paris, and she's got a lot of very helpful qualities. Zari gets it. But she doesn't have to be a _jerk_ about _everything_ and all Zari wants is for Charlie to go four seconds without taking another dig at Amaya. 

(Amaya who Zari still misses like there's a hole in her heart, and it's not even looking at Charlie that bothers her anymore. It's all her little comments, about how _boring_ Amaya must have been, how _stupid_ , what a _square_ and Zari has to ball her hands into fists to keep from just launching at Charlie to get her to stop.

Amaya - the person she used to be, when she was with the team - used to be _hers._ Those memories get to be hers, no matter what.) 

Zari takes another breath. Her tea is a little too hot to drink but she tries it anyway, blows across the top of the mug and takes the smallest, most tentative possible sip. 

Because the other thing is that Charlie won't stop getting in Zari's face. It's like she _wants_ to make Zari angry. Which Zari can deal with. If Charlie's new hobby is trying to get a rise out of Zari, she can handle it. Charlie's not the first person to get on her nerves. 

But it's not that.

Zari looks down at her cup, stirs clockwise until a little eddy forms, tugging the string of her teabag until it wraps around her spoon.

Sometimes when Charlie is really pushing Zari, right in her face, there's this feeling that flares deep inside Zari. She's had some dreams along the same lines, the kind where she wakes up overheated. She's not - _pent up_ , or whatever, but it has been a while since she had anyone in her life that's made her feel quite like that. All the tea and deep breathing in the world can't keep her from feeling furious that it's Charlie that makes her feel that way. 

She swirls her spoon counterclockwise, watches as the teabag unwraps itself and then wraps in the opposite direction, until it comes to a stop. Her tea's nearly done steeping. 

Zari's just taking her teabag out, tapping it against the side of the mug before it goes into Gideon's compost bin when she hears the familiar stomp of Charlie's boots against metal. Zari can almost feel her shoulders tense, rising toward her ears just at the sound of her. 

Charlie clomps into the kitchen like a hurricane. She's not a large person but she manages to take up so much space, the size of her personality an almost physical presence. She walks past Zari to the fridge, opens it up and grabs yet another beer - the third Zari's seen her drink today, at least. 

(This is the other thing that gets to Zari; Charlie drinks so _much_ and it's her body and her business but also - it'd be okay if she didn't.

It's not good for her, and it's not that Zari cares because she _doesn't,_ Charlie's an adult and she can do what she wants with her body. But part of Zari can't help but think about how Amaya would never drink like that.

Maybe that's why she does it.)

Charlie flips the bottle cap off with a swift gesture and flicks it at Zari, who watches as it clatters to the floor a few feet away from her. Charlie shrugs, takes her first drink and starts to walk away. It's stupid, and petty, and Zari should be breathing and letting it go but the sight of that bottle cap on the floor and Charlie's smug half-smile just makes her blood boil. 

"Are you going to pick that up?" Zari hardly recognizes her own voice, barely even registers that she's speaking until she's already spoken. She's just so _angry_ and Charlie bothers her so much that she can't help herself. Her hands are wrapped around her mug, her grip too tight and almost uncomfortable against the warmth of it. 

Charlie's footfalls stop. She turns on her heel, faces Zari with her eyebrows raised and her lips twisted into mock-surprise. She whistles. "Ooh, someone's got their knickers in a twist today." 

The word _knickers_ out of Charlie's mouth sends a surge of reaction through Zari's whole body. She draws it out, clicks the middle syllable against the back of her throat in a way that somehow manages to make Zari think about her tongue. Emotion flares in Zari, this odd blend of anger and vague, frustrated desire running through her. Zari's never felt quite like this before and she _hates it._

Zari breathes in through her nose and forces her fingers to relax away from her mug. "My knickers are fine. You just don't have to be so rude all the time." She manages to keep her voice even, but there's an unnatural quality to it; a tell that she's working very hard to keep herself from shouting. 

Charlie takes a few steps forward and sets her beer on the counter. She gets right into Zari's personal space before she bends, the top of her hair practically brushing against the front of Zari's thigh as she picks the bottle cap up off the counter. She makes eye contact with Zari, full and aggressive and Zari feels her ears go hot with anger. She can feel her totem start to react, sensing the force of her emotion. She wills it silent, keeping her eyes trained on Charlie. 

Charlie's near enough that Zari can see her makeup, the lines of eyeliner and shadow and lipstick that Amaya would never, ever wear. The extra earring at the very top of one ear, the skin still a little irritated from recently being pierced. That's fine, too. It's her body now and she can do whatever she wants with it. Zari doesn't care. 

Charlie passes the bottle cap through the space between their locked eyes. Her eyebrows lift and lower, trying to provoke Zari and it's all she can do to keep herself from launching herself at Charlie. Slowly, Charlie brings the bottle cap over the top of Zari's mug. 

She drops it directly into Zari's freshly made tea. "You have something to say to me," Charlie says. "Go ahead and say it." 

Charlie's somehow even nearer now, hip to hip with Zari. Zari's honestly not sure if Charlie's about to bite her or yell at her or what but her body's reacting without her again. " _Fuck_ you," she hisses. 

Charlie throws her head back in a laugh, comes back into Zari's personal space sneering. "You wish." 

Zari's not sure which of them shoves first. She knows that her hand is against Charlie's shoulder and Charlie's touching hers and they're both holding their bodies stiff, refusing to move. Charlie shifts her weight, somehow manages to knock her elbow against Zari's mug. A huge splash of tea runs over the side and across the countertop. 

There's a little flash, a moment where it almost seems like Charlie didn't mean to go quite this far. The fight in her expression flickers the barest amount. But before Zari can really examine it, she's back in Zari's space and rebellious as ever. It feels like she's even nearer, filling up Zari's field of view. She can smell Charlie now, sweat and hair product. There's a vague smell of beer around them but that might just be from the open bottle, she can't quite tell. 

Zari shouldn't like this. She shouldn't find this exciting. 

Maybe she doesn't. Her body's reactions are a difficult thing to process right now. She knows that her blood is running hot in her ears, knows that her heart is hammering and that the force of how much she's feeling is making something settle low in her belly, warm and prickly and tense but a little exciting, all at once. 

Charlie whistles again, lower and softer than before. "You do wish, dont'cha?" 

Zari squirms. "Absolutely _not_ ," she says. 

She's going to say more - a lot more, about how she would never think about sex with someone like Charlie, about how her attitude is infuriating and she's rude and hurtful and Zari just wants to be able to take care of her own emotions in peace - but she can't. Charlie kisses her before she can get more words out. 

Charlie kisses like it's a competitive sport, crushes her mouth against Zari's and wraps her hand around Zari's nape to pull her as close as she can. She kisses until it almost hurts. Zari shouldn't like it. She should be angry, or offended or something. But instead Charlie's mouth sparks something that sublimates all of Zari's rage into desire and Zari can feel her body responding before she can hold herself back. 

The whole of her responds. Her mouth opens, becomes pliant against Charlie's and when Charlie slides her tongue against the inside of Zari's teeth, Zari's traitor body shivers into her in reply. Zari's anger settles firmly into lust in the pit of her stomach, everything suddenly fluttering and warm and she can feel herself throbbing for this suddenly, her clit-breasts-skin begging to be touched. 

It's good, but _fuck_ her, Zari hates it. 

Charlie breaks away after minutes, her breath coming hot and fast against Zari's mouth and Zari's just as breathless but she manages to get herself to shove at Charlie's shoulders, trying for the upper hand. "You're an asshole," Zari says, but she can't keep the breathless sigh of desire out of her voice. It undermines her message just a little. 

Charlie licks her lower lip, just slowly enough to draw Zari's attention. Her lipstick is smeared, half-gone, and that means the rest of it is all over Zari's face. Zari tries not to think about the possessive thrill that sends through her, the little victory it signals: _Charlie kissed her first and she can prove it._ Charlie smiles, drawls, "Takes one to know one, love." 

Zari shoves at Charlie again but Charlie pulls, overbalances her and suddenly they're kissing again. 

Zari feels her back hit the countertop, and something clatters behind her but she doesn't care, doesn't even remember why she's supposed to care. Charlie takes up the whole of her sensory experience, one hand on either side of Zari's face, cradling her and pulling her close and kissing her so deeply that Zari feels like she could drown in it. Her mouth is nothing like Amaya's was. 

It looks like it should be, and Zari's thought - in her darkest most private moments, she's thought about whether it might feel the same. Charlie isn't like Amaya at all, and that's actually a relief. Charlie is hard edges and rough teeth and her lips are sloppy against Zari, kissing across her mouth, her chin, her lower jaw. She kisses warm and wet, so decisively that it makes Zari arch her whole body into her. 

Charlie runs her hands down Zari's throat, to her chest and then her waist and then underneath Zari's ass. She grabs and lifts and as soon as Zari feels herself land on the countertop, her traitor legs wrap around Charlie's waist. 

Zari's arms come up too, wrapping around Charlie from behind. She drags her hands down either side of Charlie's spine, nails digging in even through her shirt, a little too hard and a little mean and to her surprise the feeling makes Charlie groan in delight. She mumbles something into Zari's mouth, an expletive that's too British for Zari to parse right now and her hips thrust against Zari's pelvis and fuck. _Fuck_ , she's so wet over her. 

Charlie pulls Zari back onto the floor, waits for both of her feet to hit the ground before she surges forward to nip at Zari's earlobe. She runs her tongue across the edge of it, takes half of Zari's ear into her mouth and sucks gently and Zari didn't even think she _liked_ being kissed there. But Charlie manages to make the whole of her awareness narrow to precisely the way it feels when Charlie's tongue flicks across the shell of her ear, the warm, humid tickle of hot breath against her neck and the way all of those feelings somehow amplify the throbbing between her legs. "We gonna fuck or what, pet?" Charlie growls. 

The diminutive makes Zari bristle. She digs her nails in deep, scratches again but a little harder this time. "Not if you don't learn some manners," she hisses. 

Charlie leans back, twists her mouth into a scowl that's a little impressed. But Zari can see her now. Her lipstick's all kissed away and her eyes are dark with lust and she's breathless. Her whole body is oriented around Zari, surrounding her, and Zari's suddenly never felt so important. 

Charlie bobs down into a little fake curtsey, bats her eyelashes and says, "Please, Miss Zari. Can we fuck?" 

Her voice is dripping sarcasm, as rebellious and biting as Zari's ever heard it. It doesn't make Zari angry, this time. Zari doesn't know why, but there's something about Charlie like this - simultaneously begging for sex and bratty as anything - that's making Zari's desire build. 

It shouldn't be working for Zari. 

It shouldn't be working, but Zari can feel how wet she is with every shift of her weight, her cunt already needy. Clearly, her body didn't get the message about what she should and shouldn't like. 

Charlie's still watching. She's got her eyes locked onto Zari's face, analyzing every beat of her expression and there's a moment where she starts to falter. The lust and overconfidence in her expression sort of softens into vulnerability. Zari's lucky to notice it at all. It's that little stutter, the look of genuine interest in Charlie's eyes that makes Zari give in. 

"My room's down the hall," Zari finally says. 

Charlie grins, this wicked overeager thing and she catches her lower lip in between her teeth, tugging at Zari's wrist. "I knew it," Charlie says. 

Zari waits until they're in her bunk, the door shut behind them, before she speaks again. "Okay, but look I want - there are some rules," she says. Charlie's got her hands locked together in front of her, expression attentive. "You check in with me about what we're going to do, before we do it. And you don't - just don't tell anyone." 

Charlie looks down at the floor for a moment, shoves her hands into her back pockets and gives a little shrug. "Alright," she says. "It's not like I'm gonna go showing off." 

"Good." 

Charlie steps forward, gently entering Zari's personal space. There's something about her body language that's weirdly considerate, almost careful. "Can I put my hands on your hips?" Charlie asks. 

Zari nods in agreement. 

Charlie puts her hands on Zari's body, grips at the top of her hips. She's being strategic, resting her hands at just the right height to run both thumbs along the waistband of Zari's jeans, her touch finding half-fabric and half-skin as she works them under the hem of Zari's t-shirt. There's something about the specific feel of it, the blend of innocence and intimacy that sends shivers along Zari's skin. Her jeans don't go that high up, and Charlie running her thumbs across the ridge of her hipbones feels almost impossibly nice. She can't tell what Charlie's thinking, or what her own face is giving away, but suddenly all Zari can think about is Charlie's thumbs touching her even lower than that. 

"Can we kiss?" Charlie says. Her voice is soft, a little rough - like she really does want to ask. 

It takes Zari longer than it should to register the question, assign meaning to the words and realize that she actually needs to respond. "Yeah. Yes, we can - yes please." 

Charlie doesn't move her hands at all. For some reason, Zari half-expects her to. Instead she leans forward, pulling Zari close by her hips until she sort of stumbles against Charlie's mouth. 

Charlie kisses her like she's thinking about sex. Her mouth is open wide and her tongue is licking into Zari's mouth this time. Zari should - she's a good kisser. She knows how to make her partner sigh, how to use her lips to show exactly what she's feeling. But with Charlie pressed against her she feels malleable, almost passive. She can't stop thinking about how Charlie's tongue feels dextrous, and about how nice it might be to have her slide that tongue inside her lower down. She's wondering if Charlie's good at giving head and she's wondering how she can talk Charlie into doing it because she's just so _wet_. It's been too long since anyone touched her like this. 

Charlie steps forward. Zari stumbles back, her feet barely connected to her brain. 

They move in slow motion, slow shuffling steps. Neither of them wants to be the first to break away and they're just pressed so close; Charlie's pelvis is pressed tight against her hands at Zari's hips and Zari can feel the whole rest of Charlie's body against her. 

She feels like she fits.

Zari hits the bed first, the backs of her knees bumping up against the mattress and before she can tell Charlie to wait, she takes another step.

Zari overbalances backwards, drags Charlie down onto the bed and it's only when she lands that Charlie breaks their kiss. She's basically on top of Zari, propping herself up on her elbows and looking down but one of her thighs has slotted themselves in between Zari's legs and she can't stop thinking about how nice it would feel if Charlie bent her knee, just a little bit. Charlie strokes the side of Zari's face, her fingertips soft. "Can I touch your quim while we kiss?" she asks. 

Zari feels a surge of irritation competing with her desire. It's so - _her_ , they've been kissing for six minutes and already Charlie's trying to get a hand down her jeans. But Zari's cunt is practically calling out for it, aching _yes please_ and even as Zari's thinking about how she shouldn't be this easy, her mouth is saying, "If you want." 

Charlie grins, a smile that looks genuine and eager. She reaches for the fly of Zari's jeans like she's been given a gift. 

She works her hands underneath Zari's waistband and pulls and suddenly Zari's jeans and underwear are down around her thighs and Charlie's hand is pressed palm flat against her cunt. "Can I touch you like this?" she asks. 

Zari nods. 

Charlie bites her lip. "Can I touch it inside?" 

Zari's reply is to wriggle the rest of the way out of her jeans, kicking them off and onto the floor. "Yeah," she says. "I want you to - yes." 

Now that Zari's jeans are all the way off, she can bend one knee, giving Charlie better access and she shouldn't like this. She shouldn't want to do this as much as she does, she knows that. But then Charlie slips two fingers in between her lower lips and leans down to kiss her once again. 

It's not fair. 

She's being kissed but she's also - she doesn't even know how to describe it. _Explored_ , maybe that's the right word. Charlie's fingertips are systematic, tracing a thorough path around her inner and outer labia, skating across the hood of her clit. She's mapping all of the folds she finds between Zari's legs, and more about learning than about the end goal but Zari's so sensitive that she can hardly stand it. 

She can't be this close to coming already. Charlie's never going to let her live it down. 

Charlie's fingertips finish their path around her, ending up where they began. She tilts her head up, looks Zari right in the eyes and breaks into another grin. "Wet for me, ain't you?" she whispers. 

Zari feels herself clench against Charlie's fingertips. She feels another surge of anger, this time at her stupid body for giving her away. She knows Charlie felt it, that little flutter of her, because she can see it in Charlie's smile. "I love a good, eager girl," Charlie says. 

Zari rolls her eyes, tries to put some distance between herself and her impending climax. "Don't flatter yourself." 

Charlie runs her fingertips across Zari's clit, pressing just until she shivers. Then she takes her hand back, lifts it up between them so that they can both see how her fingers glisten when they catch the light. Charlie takes her middle finger, shiny with Zari's wetness, and separates it from her other fingers. She licks it clean, bottom to top, in a gesture that manages to be rude on several levels at once. "Just been a while for you then, eh?" Charlie says. "Figured as much. You seem like you need to have it off." 

Zari says the first thing that comes into her thoughts. "Like you're not just as wet."

That, at least, makes Charlie go quiet. 

She leans back, sits on the bed facing Zari and spreads her legs wide. "Why don't you come find out?" she says. 

Zari did walk herself right into that. 

Charlie's wearing this outfit that's - complicated. She's got at least three belts and a chain wrapped around her waist, on top of a black pleated skirt. When she leans back, the skirt falls away to reveal the gusset of her underwear - black - and the tops of her stockings, tight around her thighs. It's a look that works for her, and as much as it's not a look Zari would ever wear, she's more than capable of _appreciating_ it. 

Zari breathes in through her nose, out through her mouth. Her body is reacting to the sight of Charlie's body, to the way Charlie makes her angry and the fact that she was being touched and it takes a moment before she trusts herself to be able to close her legs without coming. When she's settled, she crawls across the bed. 

She starts with Charlie's legs, runs her hand around her ankle and then up, feeling the curve of her calf. Zari can feel her bare skin, soft through the holes in her tights. She drags her hand higher, as slowly as she can manage. Eventually the texture of Charlie's stockings gives way to bare skin. Her inner thigh is warm and impossibly soft under Zari's touch, and judging from Charlie's sharp inhalation as she touches it, sensitive as well.

Zari pauses before she moves higher. Charlie's still looking at her, chin high, daring Zari to check and see if she's wet. Zari can do this. She can rise to the challenge. She has to take a breath before she feels confident enough to run her index finger up the gusset of Charlie's underwear. She can't see a wet spot but she can feel one, the whole of her overheated and humid. 

That's what she thought. 

She runs her fingertips down, then back up again, pressing a little harder where her panties are the dampest. Charlie hisses. "You want me to check a little closer?" Zari says. 

Charlie bites her lip. "Yeah. You could." 

"Get undressed, then." Zari doesn't know where the authority in her voice comes from, but something in the swirl of irritation and desire she's feeling crystallizes into a command. 

Charlie shivers a little, bites down on lower lip hard enough to blanch it. "Yeah, alright." 

She rolls off the bed, lifting her leg over Zari's arm and narrowly missing kicking her with one of her boots. Undressing for Charlie is clearly a bit of a process. The belts and the chains have to go first, then the skirt while she kicks her boots off. She looks down at her shirt, half-covered in studs and safety pins, before she shrugs out of that, too. Then she starts to work on her stockings, rolling the first one carefully down her thigh, the tip of her toe resting on the edge of Zari's mattress for balance. 

It hits Zari: they're actually doing this. 

Zari's naked from the waist down, sitting on the bed, and Charlie's standing in front of her wearing a tank top and her panties. They're definitely going to have sex. That's what's happening 

Zari's staring. She knows it, can tell from the way that Charlie's taking in the way that she stares. The more they get into this, the softer her eyes are as they look at Zari, and that's - something. Something Zari can't process right now, but she files it away to think about later. 

"Can I touch your quim again?" Charlie asks. She's sort of staring between Zari's legs, eyes trained on her there with a focus and intensity that almost makes Zari want to cover up.   
Zari's hands twitch at the same time as her inner walls flutter. Having a bit of distance between her body and Charlie's has eased the intensity of her desire, just a little. She still wants it, but now she wants to touch Charlie more. 

She leans forward, hooks her index finger into the waistband of Charlie's underwear - black with little white skulls printed on - and pulls her to the edge of the bed. "No," Zari purrs. "Not until I get to touch yours." 

Charlie hisses with delight, whispers, " _Fuck_ , yes." 

Zari can see Charlie press her thighs together at the request. She looks so eager all of a sudden, excited to be touched with the same expression she has when she's about to get into a fight or do something else ill-advised and probably illegal. It's a little charming. 

Just a little. 

Charlie gets onto the bed knees-first, her hips jutting out toward Zari as she pulls Charlie's underwear down, off of her hips and down to her thighs. Zari takes her hand back, rests it palm down against Charlie's lower abdomen. "Get onto your back," she says. 

Charlie obliges. There's something about whatever they're doing, the dynamic they've found themselves in that makes Charlie almost obedient. Zari waits, watches as Charlie arranges herself on her back and kicks her underwear away, managing to hook them up into her hand with her foot so that she can throw them across the room. 

Her body is really, really nice to look at. 

It's - she looks a little more like Amaya when she's spread out like this, legs splayed and dark curls between her thighs waiting for Zari. But she's still herself, still practically squirming in place and beaming because they're _going to fuck_ and there's something about her energy that's a little bit infectious. Zari moves toward her, rests her knees on either side of Charlie's thigh to get near enough. 

She touches. 

She feels coarse hair, and then soft, warm skin and then her fingertips are just sinking into hot slickness, Charlie's cunt already inviting and opening up for her. Charlie is laughing, whispering _fuck off_ in delight as she wriggles her hips down. Zari hasn't touched a girl like this since - 

(- since she's not thinking about it. Since that long.)

It feels so nice, so powerful and sweet and Zari has to bite her own lip to keep from groaning in delight. 

She slides her fingers up, to where Charlie's clit is waiting for her. She rocks her fingertips against it, back and forth, not friction so much as pressure. It's meant to be teasing. But Charlie's farther gone than Zari had expected, all drama and enthusiasm. She rocks against Zari's hand, hisses, "Fuck." 

Zari's focused on Charlie, on the feel of Charlie's cunt in her hand. She doesn't notice Charlie's knee bending up until her thigh is already _there_ , flexed and pressing against the apex of Zari's legs. "Come on, Z," Charlie murmurs. "I know you're hot for it." 

"You're supposed to ask," is all Zari can think to say. 

Charlie groans again, lets her eyes flutter closed for a moment and Zari swears she can feel Charlie's cunt get wetter. "Please, Zari," she finally says. "Can you rub yourself off on my thigh?" 

Hearing it is - it's hot, Zari can admit that to herself. "What else do you want?" Zari says. She rocks her hips up and then down, grinding against Charlie's thigh as hard as she can. It feels delicious, just enough friction to make her feel eager and needy all over again. 

"Rub me off," Charlie whispers. "Please I'm so hot Zari _please_ -"

Charlie's sentence is broken by Zari's fingers sliding down her slit and back up again, collecting a little extra wetness before she starts to rub little circles across the firm ridge of Charlie's clit. She grinds down against Charlie's thigh while she moves, matching the pace of her hips with her fingers as she watches Charlie come undone beneath her. 

Zari watches as Charlie starts to melt, her bravado and dirty talk giving way to soft little whimpers. She's so vulnerable like this, unashamed in her desire as Zari works her toward orgasm and there's something about the whole of her that makes Zari feel almost tender. 

Charlie's whimpering hits a fever pitch before she suddenly stills, her climax overtaking her. Her orgasm is loud and delighted and open, and when she's finally finished, she laughs up at Zari. 

"Fuck me," Charlie whispers up at the ceiling. "Yeah." 

It's maybe the first time Zari's ever seen her be honest, before. Maybe that's why it feels so special to be able to see it. There's something about Charlie that's making Zari a little sweet and a little soft. She can't help but be kind to her. She drags her wet fingers up, across Charlie's hipbone to splay across her belly. "I think I already did," Zari whispers. 

Charlie considers her for a moment. Then she laughs again, but this time she's sitting up and grabbing Zari to pull her down, suddenly embracing her in a huge, playful bear hug. Zari's too surprised to react at first; by the time she realizes what's happening, Charlie's kissing her. Her mouth is tender and surprisingly sweet, and it's - nice. It's actually really nice, and for an instant Zari feels something sweeter than lust stir inside of her. 

The moment disappears as soon as it passes.

When their kiss is done, Charlie leans back, looking at Zari with a grin. 

Her hand is somehow already between Zari's legs, not quite touching but ready for it, once Zari tells her that it's alright. "I don't think I need to touch you," Charlie says. "I think your quim needs a little kiss." 

Zari's body surges; it's all she can do to keep from dripping desire into Charlie's lap. 

"Yeah," Zari says. "You can do that." 

Zari's barely done speaking before she's on her back, Charlie on top of her and beaming like she's just won a prize. 

She's got permission; Zari remembers giving it, but it's still a surprise when Charlie flattens herself between Zari's legs and actually licks up into her. Her tongue is exactly as dextrous as Zari had dreamed; she flicks it against Zari's clit and it feels so nice that Zari clutches at the pillow beside her head, momentarily speechless. It's so good, she likes getting head so much and Charlie is so eager about it. It really does feel like her cunt is being kissed, all lips and tongue that feel like they're everywhere. She can already feel herself start to get back there, pressure building high and sweet inside her. 

Charlie dips her tongue lower suddenly, sliding it _inside_ and running it around her entrance. Zari doesn't even know what she says - she hears a noise, feels in her throat that she said _something_. But Charlie hears it, Zari knows from the way that Charlie hums against her happily and starts to move her tongue even faster. 

She's going to come. She's going to come all over Charlie's face, wet and needy, and there's no way to make this cool or reserved. This is just happening, and Zari wants it so _much_ she's so hot she's waited _forever_ and she's moments away from begging when her orgasm hits her. She sees stars, makes a mess all over Charlie's chin as her body tenses and releases and then shudders, over and over again. 

Charlie licks up all of it. She laps at Zari's clit until the shudders stop, leaves wet, tender kisses across her hips, her lower belly, right up to the hem of her shirt. 

She wipes her chin one-handed, and grins like Zari's cunt is the best party she's ever attended. "That was bloody brilliant," she crows. "Nice one." 

Zari's too tired to be irritated with her. 

They don't cuddle. Cuddling is for lovers, or at least for friends, and they're not either of those. 

Zari just lets her body relax, focuses on her breathing. She kind of can't feel her legs, and the idea doing anything more strenuous than rolling over is just completely out of the question. Charlie rests a respectful distance away, tucks her knees up against her chest. Zari's pretty sure that Charlie's watching her, and that's - something else she'll file away to think about later. 

She doesn't know how much time passes. All Zari knows is that eventually, she feels like she's back inside her body. Everything feels like it's starting to cool, her heart rate slowing and the air in her room suddenly chilly against her skin. Zari takes a breath, summons just enough energy to kick the covers down and side her legs underneath. 

Charlie's still watching her. The expression on her face is something Zari's not sure she wants to read, but Zari can at least understand her body language. She's got her arms wrapped around her knees, goosebumps visible on her bare thighs. Zari shrugs. "You can get under too, if you want." 

Charlie looks away. "Right," she mumbles, softly enough that it almost sounds shy. 

They don't touch. They're not - that's not what they do. But they rest there together for a little while, their shared body heat bringing them both back to a comfortable temperature. It feels intimate, but it also doesn't; inhabiting a space somewhere in between. "That was - thanks," Zari says. 

"Yeah, don't mention it," Charlie replies. 

Zari looks over at her. Charlie's eyes are half-closed, and Zari turns just in time to catch them flutter shut for a moment, her eyelashes against her cheeks suddenly breathtaking. It makes emotion flutter low in Zari's belly, something almost like affection. "Right," Zari says. 

"Anyway. This was -," Charlie starts, really softly. Then she sort of shakes her head, pushes up from the bed. "Alright. Nothing to write home about or anything." 

She half-shoves her body upward, slipping out from under Zari's sheets. "See you around, yeah?" Charlie says. 

"Right," Zari says again. 

She curls onto her side and watches Charlie get dressed. She waits until Charlie leaves before she moves, and tries to ignore the way that it feels, somehow, like a missed opportunity.


End file.
